Posted by walking rek on May 31, 2008 in
living rek I’m a big fan of lists. Specifically writing them. And then crossing things off them. It really does help me to get shit done.
The idea of me getting my motor bike license has been on the list for a couple of years. Whilst it was only kinda pencilled in, it was on there, maybe half way down, just above learning to sail. I am thrilled to inform you that I have booked in for my 2 day pre-learner rider course for mid July. I am torn between either owning a motor bike or a scooter. Even within these parameters I have a number of half baked 2 wheeled fantasies: a fully reconditioned Italian retro step thru beauty from the 60’s, or a very zippy modern day sports scooter, or some dark creature from Deus with fat tyres. I’ll no doubt just end up with a postie. But I would at least paint it black.
The shift toward a new era of personal transport comes about because I am now car free. I sold the Honda on ebay and got $290 for it. It was due for rego, had no shocks and was riddled with rust. I couldnt justify paying more then it was worth to get it back on the road for one more run about the block. Having never dealt with wreckers in my short driving life, I had only heard horror stories from friends who told of having to pay the wrecker to take the car away, or of receiving pitiful amounts for their hunk of metal. Pretty happy with my ebay sale. It was my first.
I am also on the verge of being smoke free. Until recently I used to have a mild smoking habit that was exacerbated almost entirely by alcohol. I have 3 more chapters of Allen Carr’s Easy Way to Stop Smoking and then it is all over. I’ve smoked tobacco at various degrees of intensity since about age 15, so I’ve had a good dash. Truth is, I’m not enjoying it anymore. When you are the only sad soul puffing down a cigga on a cold windy street out front of the pub you start to think it over. I’ve smoked rollies since 2003 when I revolted against the chemical tang of pre-fabricated dhurris. Even then I had many “smoking rules” that I imposed on myself: no smoking when walking, when its raining, when its windy, inside, near kids, in cars, before midday, when sick, when I can’t get my preferred blend/filters/papers, after a heavy nite of party, during work hours, in a smoking room etc. Couple these self made rules with those enforced by society and I have a strong case to, pardon the expression, bag the fag. Not suggesting it will be easy. I havent finished the book yet and thus am still technically allowed to smoke, if I want. And I do still want to… fleetingly.
Giving up the smokes wasnt even on the list. It just kinda happened.
I’ve been on jury duty for the last 4 weeks. This event will get its own blog coverage in due course but I mention it here because it was the result of a chat I had with a fellow juror that prompted me to enquire about my German citizenship. I was born in Germany and came to Oz with folks at age 3 or 4. Up until 3 days ago I was under the impression that I had no cause to enquire about dual citizenship. Various reports from obviously ill-informed people had me believe that I was ineligible for German citizenship because of a number of factors that I won’t go into here. Anyhow, I wrote the consul an email outlining my history and in true German efficiency they got back to me within 12 hours with a positive response. For a measly $130 and sighting of some documents I can apply for an EU passport. The world has just opened up a million more doors. I am extremely happy and proud to be an Aussie Kraut, and will get the passport shortly to prove it.
As for what else is on the list, I’m still working on it.
Posted by walking rek on Apr 12, 2008 in
eating rek,
laughing rek,
living rek Yikes, I have a lot of ground to cover here since the fateful punk gig. I think I will just make a start on this entry and chip away at it when so inclined.
-February was large. Had my usual birthday month celebrations, this time shared with cuz Simon from Berlin. He was in town for 4 weeks on his inaugural antipodean adventure. We hammered it pretty hard for the first 16 days straight, but it had been a long time between drinks for us and we had some major catching up to do.
It all started on the first nite we met up. I decided that, in the spirit of my early twenties and crazy penchant for Montezumas in Crows Nest, I wanted to eat burritoes and drink beer for my birthday dinner again. This time we convened at Baja Cantina in Glebe for tacos and tequila. This joint had mixed reviews but was accomadating for our rowdy Tuesday nite rabble. High light of the evening was not the sangria but a personal appearance from Leo Sayer! Ever the hawk eye I spied his mop as he entered the room and gave him a hearty welcome and wave. My enthusiasm must have confused the wee lil guy as he bounded over to give me a hug and then realised on approach that he had never met me before. Leo backed away rather quickly, leaving me all deflated after my near brush with disco heritage (I had “You make me feel like dancing” as my recorded message for years). I had seen Leo in the flesh once before, at work, when he was doing sound check and I noticed with glee that his roadies had scrawled Leo Slayer over his roadcases. Anyhow, later at dinner when I had forgotten all about my earlier humiliation, Leo comes back over again and sings me Happy Birthday. I went very red.
A couple of days later Simon and I went to Alice to hang out with my brother Ben. Ben’s birthday is 5 days after mine, so we were there to celebrate his 30th as well as explore the red centre. On arrival we shot off to Ellory’s Creek for a refreshing dip. It was deserted and very very peaceful. Ben was walking around through the long grass wearing thongs. I was a bit concerened about snakes. Ben tells me that snakes won’t bite. I’m not convinced. Back in town we head out for a boogie and go to this community gig that featured poetry reading (gag) belly dancers and salsa demonstrations. I wasnt too impressed by the lack of males in attendance, and threatened to head off to Bojangles. Cuz deployed his diplomatic tactic and convinced me to stay put at our little family reunion. Ended up having a grand old time together bopping around on the concrete slab under the stars with what turned out to be a legion of lesbians.
Ben took us out to the Desert Park early next morning. It was 35 degrees at 930am. We trekked about for a few hours, watched the Birds of Prey show and relaxed in the air con of the Noccy (nocturnal) House . Ben used to work at the park so we had his expertise to guide us even though he insisted we listen to the recordings on headset. It is an interesting place, but fuck it was hot with a nasty Crown Lager hangover. After lunch n a snooze we head off for a quad bike adventure. The guide Frosty was a real militant wanker. We just waited till he was off a fair ways and then carved up the dust. I loved it. Ben and Simon wanted bigger bikes, but as a beginner I had loads of fun keeping up with those two hot heads and going sideways through the scrub.
Simon and I joined an el cheapo 3 day tour of the red centre. We missed the bus by an hour. They had to come back and get us last. Stepping on to a bus loaded with 15 strangers after holding up the tour was smirk worthy. Some dude was making these weird noises which became very annoying very quickly. I thought he was practicing his beat boxing… Within a couple of minutes of getting on the bus cuz n I have hijacked the bus stereo and have ACDC blaring. Off to the Rock we go. We make friends with everyone, the beat box syndrome is actually Turrett’s, there are loads of Swiss, a few Brits and a few smart alex like us. Cuz is easily the eldest, followed by me and the 2 guides. We see Uluru up close and personal as we walk around it in record time, pop in to the Olgas (walks closed due to extreme 47 degree heat), walk/climb Kings Canyon at dawn (brilliant! highlight of tour), sleep under the stars in swags, eat crappy back packer food, drink a sixer each nite, get up at 4am every morning, drive for up to 6 hours at 80 km/hour each day in a mini-bus with pseudo air con, meet the singing Dingo, cook kangaroo tail (gross), make a massive bonfire, fantasize about weed, forget about snakes, swim in dodgy swimming pools, dehydrate and rehydrate over and over again. Had a great time. Would recommend it if you can hack the heat. It was hellish at times. But the landscape is utterly staggering. I am going back to do the 4WD option.
– playground, air, lcd etc
– easter
– mustache burlesque
– still knox adventures
– scottie’s bike day
– sticky date pudding
LOL I got real far tonite
The long awaited daft Punk gig was nothing short of EPIC. I’ll try to break it down for ya’:
1. We drove out to Homebush (great idea!). Traffic wasnt too foul so we got there about 1315. Parked car, short stroll to the ONLY entrance where we proceeded to do fuck all for the next 2.5 hours apart from stand still in a huge crowd under awful conditions. Some nitwit had sent a bulk email to everyone who bought their tix online. Email went along the lines of “if you dont get there early you will be watching the Punk from the stadium, so get there early punk”. I guess myself and every other sod who rocked up before 1700 were pretty keen on that dancefloor action (mind you, Daft Punk were on at 2145). There was at least 10,000 of us (prob more like 14K but some reports say as many as 24K) stuck in this ugly crowd scence: no water, no shade, no public announcements, no queue barriers, no St John’s, no end in sight. We did have in abundance: humidity approaching 90%, girls fainting, people pushing, people booing, people farting, bottle throwing and dangerous levels of frustration. It took every gram of self control for me not to ark up and barge thru the crowd to hurl abuse at whoever was responsible for the gross misconduct and most outrageous breach of OH+S in party history that we were subjected to. The organisers should def post a public apology and explainantion for what happened. Only ONE fucking entry point??? Big Day Out is a juggernaut in comparison with this Never Ever Again one-off and I’ve never had to endure such disgusting conditions. People could have died! There could have been a stampede. Fuck knows I wanted to! (Might have something to do with the 3 Red Bulls I sculled in the hour prior to the line-up but my yogic breathing technique placated the guarana rage to a manageable degree, but only just). I got separated from Fee in the various crowd surges that occurred. This was also annoying. But as we no doubt would have made the joint decision to fuck the gig, sell our tix for $500 each and drive home to smoke on my balcony had we stayed together in that mob, it probably worked out for the best that we got separated. Small joy!
2. Once inside, it took a while to chill the fuck out after that degrading ordeal. A ciggie and some water with a sit down sorted that out after a bit. Then we decide to get some food. Another fortifying gesture…in theory. Every other punk in Sydney had the same idea. Same FUCKN QUEUES! AGH!!! Ok, no biggie. We already survived the mutha of all crowds so this should be a piece of cake. But then the rain came down. Just like that line from that Infusion/Outfission (sorry lads!) track, it dropped out of the heavy sky and added another dampener (cough cough) to the gig. In retrospect it was actually quite refreshing and our auric bodies no doubt needed the cleanse after that psychic rape earlier. But at the time it just seemed like the day couldnt get any worse, especially since the rain did not look like clearing. Added to this was another example of the slowest moving queue in human history; we were lined up for 45 mins for a burger and chips. Funnily enough, as luck would have it, just as I get to the counter and order my food, I open my wallet to retrieve some cash and the fuckin WIND picks up, swirls around us with mischievious gusto, rifles thru my wallet and snatches $50 from me! It is promptly swept UNDER the fuckn food wagon where I have been standing for almost an hour and despite my efforts to kneel down in the mud and wriggle under the cart, it just always seems to be that little bit too far away from my reach. GRRRR! I spin to to Fee and loudly exclaim “Fuck this, after we eat we GO!” LOL, I do tend to get emotional about these things! We take a seat under cover, devour probably the best fuckn chicken burger I’ve ever had, and reassess. Apart from $50 and a few kilos lost from dehydration, we are in good shape. Fee needs bandaids, and we both need water, so the plan is hatched and we decide to stay…at least for a lil while longer…
3. Soon enough the phone starts making noise and its the cavalry, here much later then expected and in much happier spirits then us early birds. Looking and feeling very chipper they sweep us along in a tide of good vibes to go sit up the very top of the stadium to avoid the rain. Blazed up and for the first time today I was actually laxin. Feelin good after a temporary bout of vertigo, we head en masse to to the dancefloor. Ha! Should mention here that the “limited” dancefloor tickets were referring to the grope pit up the front of the main stage. So, it really would not have been a big deal had we turned up later as I had NO intention of getting in that pit anyhow! That email def presented a different story to what unfolded. I will post it here if I can be bothered at a later date. We grab a few beers on the way down and I’m in front of Fee. Next thing I hear is bang and bounce and I turn around and there she is, mid-text, on her ass on the metal steps with a beer in the other hand! OUCH! Fee insisted that her injuries were purely ego based, so we kept on. That would have been another Get The Fuck Outta Here moment, but we forged on, tuff ladies of the floor that we are 😉
After that , the party got considerably better. The sun came out toward the end of Muscles set, the defining moment of his career so far, the crowd went wild. The sun stayed out till almost 2100 (being the longest day of the year, a solstice in fact) when the moon dropped in, almost full, and hovered above us till the end.
I could have a whinge about the DJs, the sound and the vision. But I won’t. Presets and Cut Copy were lots of fun and very familiar. The toilet situation got better as the nite wore on, as did the bar wait. So no complaints there.
Daft Punk were mad. Their lites and production were something else. It felt like they really were robots talking to us! Some said that they played a close version of the Alive CD, and maybe that is true. They still captured my imagination, hips and head as I bopped about like a lil kidder.
And yes, they did end with One More Time. It was perfect!
see below for excerpt from the group email:
1. GET THERE EARLY
The gates fling open for NEVEREVERLAND in Sydney at 2pm.
The first 24,000 people through the door will be given a wristband that allows access onto the field in front of the stage and the stands. After that, punters will be directed into the stands. If you do not have a wristband you will not be admitted to the field at any time.
BULL SHIT
Hot dog. The summer season is upon us here in down town Sydney. I am happy, hungover n broke and it aint even NYE yet. Excellent form. Did the twist with my body n mind with Rocket Science tonite in preparation for Daft Punk tomorrow. I like to be limber for these events. In true w.rek style, I meant to blog about the last time I saw the The Science back in June. But, as fate may have it, I’ve only just checked my drafts now. And as much as I want to describe the sensory overload that accompanies each of their sets, words again escape me. For another day.
Posted by walking rek on Dec 9, 2007 in
living rek This is big day for me. Actually, it has been a big week for achievements, but today was especially important. I went for, and passed first time, the dreaded Driver Qualification Test. This is the fourth and final step in the NSW driving licence program which qualifies me with a full licence. And for the trifle sum of $142 I got me a gold one for 5 years. The green P plates are gone! I am now ok to use mouth wash or take medication which has some alcohol content if I plan to drive, I can hire a car and of course I am legally allowed to drive at 110km/hour. Important stuff!
This week also saw me officially complete the course I had been doing for the last 3 months. The satisfaction level was tangible. I am already planning my next educational experiment, but will wait till the new year to get under way. Thinking of creative writing, a language class and some ghetto booty dance classes to keep it real.
As the end of 07 draws near I look back and smile. With a little bit of motivation and regular bouts of positive thought and support from strong friendships I have managed to achieve most of the goals I set for myself this year, along with a few others I wasnt expecting. I celebrated these milestones by promptly investing in a swag of good wine which I plan to share.
LOL I sound all grown up!
Posted by walking rek on Nov 17, 2007 in
laughing rek,
living rek Moved in to the new home. Was the normal pain in the ass to pack up and ship out but well worth it as I sit here over looking the tree lined street from my fabulous new bedroom. I havent moved house in the last 6 years but prior to that I was a regular gypsy so it was nothing too stressful, just heavy. I dont remember accumulating all that extra furniture, kitchen ware, clothing, candles and plants though, and to be honest I could probably chuck a lot of it out. But I might leave that for another day, I am exhausted.
My delightful ex-neighbours sent me off with a barrage of insults hurled from the safety of their second storey flat. I was expecting some kind of childish behaviour from them so it didnt really come as a suprise, they are, after all, just a sad angry couple who are jealous of others less sad and angry then they. I smiled sincerely (I am thrilled to be leaving them behind!), blew a kiss, took a bow and continued packing my car.
I’m guessing they dont yet know about the new born baby who has arrived to live directly next door 😉
Posted by walking rek on Nov 3, 2007 in
living rek The lap of the gods has produced a fine new home for Peggy and I. We will soon be residents of a little suburb called Darlington which shall no doubt become the centre of our universe.
FJ will join us in the new venture as too will Ange, a close friend from work.
I feel really lucky to have landed this place. As usual, the inspection drew a large crowd and fierce competition. The real estate agent tried to bully us into tendering higher rent by saying that other applicants had offered considerably more. I stood my ground and said forget it. 10 minutes later they were ringing to ask us to put our deposit down. LOL!
The move is happening in about 2 weeks.
Peggy hasnt figured out what all the boxes are for yet.
Posted by walking rek on Oct 19, 2007 in
living rek I am not ded. I am VERY lucky. I do not have serious injuries bar trauma to elbow, ribs, hips, neck, shoulders and a cut on my eyebrow. I lost a favourite tshirt and hoodie when they cut me open at the scene. I then lost all my clothes when they stripped me down in ER. I got to ride in an ambo and inhale funky green gas before morphine sorted me out properly. I stopped traffic for a while, but i cannot fly.
I went over the handle bars down a steep hill at 35km/hr when i slammed on the brakes of my newish bike. Rear wheel kicked up, throwing me into the path of incoming traffic at peak hour on Pyrmont Bridge Road. I was reacting to a car whose movements i couldnt predict: i had the choice of either maintaining my path and maybe colliding with this vehicle, veering right to avoid the obstacle and taking a chance with the cars behind me, or braking. I didnt add gravity or momentum into the equation, math was never my strong point. Lord help me Words!
Hit the ground. Started screaming. Didnt lose consciousness, I think. Managed to get the guy who rendered immediate assistance (Mark) to also call my boss. Right elbow not good, adrenalin pumping thru me so hard i can only breathe short and fast to keep up with my heart. I’m flattened on the road with my bike on top of me; apparently the bike wanted a softer landing then mine. Right about now i remember i have my helmut and gloves on. Ambos scraped me off the road after getting my neck in a brace: the senior officer (Liz) was funny and lovely and calm, suggested i take my guardian angel for a drink.
In ER they discovered i wasnt wearing knickers under my shorts that day. One less thing for them to cut off in a hurry. Weird thought though, lying there with 6 doctors checking my vitals for spinal damage, i’m wondering if i caught them off guard with my commando routine. Then, they roll me over to check for ribs poking thru skin and open my butt cheeks to see if i’m bleeding internally. Kinda wish i was passed out completley for that bit. Next comes the xrays, right there on the table. She was a cold bitch, yanking and prodding my limbs like they werent attached. I could feel it through the fog, she didnt care, a starched white robot straight out of the Cuckoos nest. Sweet irish accent on hand to cover me up with the gown and a blanket, i’m shaking with shock and drugs hard wired in my vein.
They call it trauma. The media call it “Ride 2 Work Day“. I’m calling it “The Day I came Closest to Dying…so far”. Maybe I am overreacting. Maybe you read this and think, what a wimp. But the look on the faces of my friends who came to ER that day brings tears my eyes as i write this. I am only one woman, yet i am not alone. Had my number come up i would have left without question or regret. And so i sit re-reading this, contemplating what it means now to be here, with these friends, in this life i have built for myself and i wonder why.
Posted by walking rek on Oct 14, 2007 in
living rek I got hit on by an extremely cute lad last nite. Had to turn him down despite his obvious interest in me and his endearing persistence. He was 22.
This may come as a bit of shock to my dear readers, but I havent often rejected offers of casual sex from handsome gents in the past (probably because I am usually the upfront one ;). My checkered relationship history has meant that I’ve spent as much time being single as I have been someone’s loyal girlfriend. Its an even 50/50 split. In saying so, the opportunities for exciting encounters with random strangers during the “on” season have been ample. I am, after all, the adventurous type.
My recent decision to stay at the party with my friends rather then disappear into the nite was almost a first. I am puzzled by this change of heart, enough so to blog about it. And potentially muddy my rep in coming clean. But the question perplexes me more then my dirty laundry. Why didnt I run with the wolves? He was totally hot this guy last nite, and bold which I like. It may have been the age gap, but that hasnt really bothered me in the past…could it be the onset of premature menopause???
The likely truth is that I am more interested in a long term partnership then one nite stands these days.
Maybe I have this subconscious theory that if I refrain from casual carnal delights then Mr Long Term No Kids (maybe) will roll into my life sooner. Part of me wants to believe this fairy tale.
The more realistic part of me knows that life is often unfair and that I may be single for some time yet despite my self inflicted oath of celibacy. There are a lot of hot guys in the world. It would seem wasteful to ignore chemistry and passion between 2 free agents…
Damn, I didnt get his number!
———————————————————————-
Today my facebook horoscope apps had this to say:
“This is a great time to throw yourself passionately at the next attractive opportunity.”
and
“Heartwise, you can expect to live an encounter with someone young and brilliant who will fascinate you.”
Well, I guess we can safely say that my timing was well and truly OFF this weekend LOL!
Posted by walking rek on Oct 5, 2007 in
living rek Just a quick note to advise that the battle with my unsavoury neighbours hath cometh to an end. An opportunity to move house has presented itself (finally) and I am grabbing it with both hands. Whilst I havent yet found the new house, I do have the advantage of 2 great flatmates with whom to move. Our options are looking bright for a bigger, better home with bath and garden with sensible rent. The inspections begin in earnest tomorrow.
The sense of relief is overwhelming.
But, I’m not overjoyed to leave my home of almost 6 years. I will miss the grand high ceilings with ornate cornices, the cosy lounge in winter, the blessed sun room, balmy afternoons on the porch. I will miss the long corridor which I used to run up and down when I first moved in after living in poky apartments for too long. I will miss the cool interior when the temps rise in summer. I will miss the huge arched windows in my bedroom, and the view of the old gum trees across the road. I will miss the Kokoda Track which used to run down the side of the house. I will miss living in this house, it has been my island, my mountain, my dancefloor, my home.
The era is over. New life begins.
*** Had an inspection of current house by real estate about a week after I wrote this blog. Turns out that they want to gut and renovate the whole place soon so I’d have to move anyhow. Funny how that worked out. By deciding to move of my own accord I feel empowered. The neighbours will also need to move. But, as the renovations will begin downstairs in my flat first, they will be subjected to the delighful sound of builders for a few weeks before they get the boot. I don’t wish to sound smug, but suck shit you fckn morons***